


paradise (even now)

by alisdas



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enhanced Reader, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutant Reader, Reader-Insert, Staring, but not creepy, but not really, i guess, i mean maybe creepy, peter has a crush aw, peter parker is soft af, reader is basically poison ivy, slight angst, tony stark is a cool mom, um peter is not 15 he's like at least 17 or 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 22:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisdas/pseuds/alisdas
Summary: There’s a beautiful girl talking to the plants around the back of the Compound. Peter doesn’t know much about love, but he thinks he’s well on his way towards it.





	paradise (even now)

There’s a girl talking to the plants around the back of the Compound.

(Please don’t ask what he’s doing around the back of the Compound.)

(…He ripped the crotch of his suit and he doesn’t want to risk the front entrance.)

Peter peeks around the corner once more, cheeks flushing.

A _beautiful_ girl. It’s almost like the sun brightens just for her, shrouding her in golden light, and Peter wonders why he’s currently failing the poetry module of his English course when he’s prepared to pump out sonnets to describe her.

The sun is shining brightly on her hair and skin and the sundress that reaches just past her knees. It’s yellow. It makes him happy for some reason.

Peter flattens himself back against the wall, chest heaving uncharacteristically heavily. He’d never seen her before. Who was she? Why was she here? And why was she talking to the flowers? Was he being creepy? He was being creepy.

“Peter?” Karen’s voice says in his ears. “Your heart rate has accelerated immensely. Should I call Mr. Stark for assistance?”

“No!” Peter cries out, cursing himself right after. If he hadn’t been caught peeking before, his inability to control the volume of his voice would surely have him figured out. “No, no, no. I–I’m okay, Karen, honest.”

Gingerly, Peter leans forward enough for one eye to emerge from behind the stony corner he’s hidden behind. He feels his shoulders deflate and his brows furrow in disappointment.

She’s gone – but, god, what a scene she leaves behind. In the concrete jungle of the Compound – as lovely as it is –, she leaves a paradise. The sun shines brighter, the grass grows greener. There are bunches of buddleias and roses and baby’s breath and a ton of other flowers Peter doesn’t know the names of but wants to.

He feels a smile grow on his face, and it remains there as he enters through the back and takes the elevator to the lab where Mr. Banner and Mr. Stark are waiting for him. (And yes, he has snagged a spare pair of pants. He needs to keep his dignity intact.)

“What’s got you so smiley, kid?” Tony asks, sparing him a glance as he enters. He’s hunched over the arm of one of his many suits, soldering some pieces together and most definitely not wearing the required safety equipment. “It’s a Wednesday.”

And Peter doesn’t know why he does it, doesn’t know why he doesn’t ask about the strange girl and her patch of flowers, but he shrugs. “No reason.”

×

A few days later, after a pop quiz in Spanish, a Physics test, and a round of concern-fueled angry lectures about the bruises on his torso, Peter finds himself around the back of the Compound once more. No, his pants aren’t ripped again, and Mr. Stark really was expecting him – but he couldn’t help it.

He’s curious in nature and the girl had been pretty and _why did it matter what she looked like, Peter?_ Michelle had berated him on how creepy he had acted, and yet, here he was again.

He peeks around the same corner and comes upon the same image; the little paradise, bathed in golden sunlight and blossoming with a cacophony of colour. The girl is nowhere to be seen, and Peter is completely alone. Hm.

He glances behind him, and then to his left and right. No-one would notice if he was 5 minutes late, right?

Right.

Abandoning his backpack behind him and shedding his hoodie, he bounds forward towards the bundles of wildflowers and emerald grass before flopping down and surrounding himself with their perfume.

God, he hasn’t felt so relaxed in a long time. Saving the world and giving directions to old ladies took a lot out of an eighteen year old –and not particularly in that order. The aching in his torso seems to ease up as he inhales deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut. Paradise, indeed.

“What are you doing here?”

With a startled yelp and a flail of his limbs Peter scrambles up, short of breath and fixing his shirt as he stands. It’s her. Oh, God, it’s her and Peter doesn’t know what to do – smile? Laugh? Joke? Maybe he should take Sam’s advice and take the stoic route – _chicks dig that stuff, man._

All Peter manages is a nervous, choked sound, and the girl raises her eyebrows.

“I’ve seen you before,” she says, seemingly unaware of his inability to form a simple sentence. Her eyes narrow slightly. “You were spying on me.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Peter splutters. “I – I was just curious. I heard you talking. To the flowers, I mean–”

She hums and moves passed him, brushing her fingers against the tall grass. “Helps them grow better. You should try it sometime.”

Peter doesn’t have any plants to talk to – stopped trying to grow them after his cacti died a week after they were bought – but something about her makes him want to try again. He clears his throat. “I–I’ll make sure to.”

She hums again and sinks down the the ground where he had been laying. Peter watches on, unsure of the where the conversation stands. Should he stay? Should he go? He wants to know her name but she doesn’t seem interested, content to bask in the sun like a cat.

“My name’s _____,” she says, peeking one eye open and smiling when he can only stare, bug-eyed. “I could tell you were dying to ask.”

“P–Peter.” He gulps. “Peter Parker.”

“You’re the Spiderboy, right? Tony talks about you a lot.”

“Spiderman,” he says, annoyed before he can help it. “Well, Peter, actually. How long have you been here for?” _Tony’s never mentioned you._

“Two weeks, now,” _____ says, sitting up. “I’ve only met Banner and Pepper. Tony says it’s best to settle in before meeting the team, so I spend most of my time here.”

Peter finds himself kneeling beside her before he can second guess it. The thought of getting up and leaving her under the sun alone makes his stomach turn, like he’s missing out on a rare opportunity. And he can’t help but take note of how close her hand is to his in the grass. His ears flush.

“It’s the plants, see,” she whispers, leaning closer as if to tell him a secret. Peter’s heart accelerates and he’s glad that he forewent wearing his suit because she most definitely would have heard Karen taking note of his racehorse of a heart. “They like me.”

Something crawls onto his hand but he doesn’t look down, too taken with this ethereal girl before him, the scent of flowers and the shine of sun against her skin. It’s only when it begins up his arm that he attempts to swipe it away – and when it doesn’t budge, he spares a glance down.

It’s a flower. A whole-ass flower is winding up his arms at a pace that is not scientifically possible, but here it is, with a yellow green stem and a blushing pink bud, and it stops at the crook of his elbow to blossom.

When he gives a tiny yelp the girl springs into chuckles, and his shock wears off quickly because nobody – _nobody_ – should have such a laugh that is capable of rendering one’s words into dust. But just like the flower that’s swinging back and forth in the gentle wind, here she is.

“T-that’s amazing,” Peter says, and for a second he’s not sure whether he’s talking about her or the flower. “Wh– how? What?”

She shrugs. “Since I was born, I think. Kept it a secret until last month when I accidentally destroyed my school gym during dodgeball. My... parents think it’s best if I stay here until I have it under control.”

“That’s amazing,” he says again, and this time he is shameless in his awe-filled stare. _____ looks down bashfully, and opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something more–

“Incoming call from ‘Mr. Stark heart-emoji heart-emoji heart-emoji’.”

Peter blushes as red as the roses growing behind him and fumbles for a good ten seconds straight before he gets his phone out from his back pocket. _____ giggles to herself and Peter answers the call as quickly as his fingers allow.

He regrets enabling text-to-speech but it was handy when he was suited up and needed to know whether it was Ned calling about his latest movie theory or Mr. Stark with arguably more important news – he has no excuse for the numerous heart emojis, though.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter answers. “Funny that you should call me–”

“You’re almost an hour late, kid. Do I need to get a new lab assistant?” The threat is clearly empty but Peter still jumps to disagree.

“No, no, no, I’m just–”

“Just what?”

“…N–nothing.”

Peter’s eyes instinctively flicker up to _____ – she’s already looking at him, and he curses the uncomfortable heat that fizzles up his cheeks and neck as a result.

“Nothing, eh?” Peter’s mentor (of sorts) echoes. He sounds much too interested, Peter thinks, and before he can backtrack and shell out excuses Tony has already sounded off. “Right, then. Five minutes, kid. Pronto.”

Peter lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

“So,” _____ says, holding her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek upon them, “You have to go, huh?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes. “You know, saving the world stuff.”

“So you’re not gonna be helping Tony adjust the ion boosters on his suit?” She asks, raising a brow, and Peter laughs bashfully. He’s unsure of what to say – what can he say? I think you’re beautiful and amazing and I already want to know everything about you and–

Jesus, he’d file a restraining order on himself.

“I have to go,” he says instead.

“Yeah, I said that.” _____ looks more amused than anything, like she knows she’s got him wrapped around her pinky. The flower on his arm begins to recede and Peter feels a sense of disappointment as it sinks back into the grass.

“Here,” _____ says, as if she’s seen the reluctance in his eyes – she plucks from the grass a sunflower as the yellow dress she’d been wearing the first time he saw her, and she leans forward so close that Peter has to mentally wrangle with those intrusive thoughts that are pushing him to just close the space between them–

She tucks the flower behind his right ear and smiles so softly that Peter feels a pain in his chest. Real, tangible pain that he’s sure isn’t from the 4 Red Bulls he chugged before arriving.

When Peter runs into the Compound, Pepper Potts is also on her way up to Tony. He speeds into the elevator beside her and collapses against the wall breathlessly, a dopey smile on his face. Pepper takes one look at the sunflower in his hair and smiles knowingly.

x

Two weeks later and only two more visits to the meadow behind the Compound and Peter has all but forgotten that _____ hasn’t met the whole team. He’s restrained from telling Mr. Stark or Banner that he’s met her – to avoid teasing, mostly, because they had badgered him for hours on who put the sunflower behind his ear that one day and he… kinda liked having her to himself.

It’s been a few days since his last visit; between school and web slinging and after school lab trips, he’s swamped with work. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t peer longingly out the window like a lovesick puppy, hoping for a glimpse of the girl that’s been plaguing his mind…

There’s a team meeting called in the common room on the uppermost floor and it is with slight confusion that everyone is gathered; Natasha, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, Sam and Scott and Rhodey, Pepper and Banner, Wanda and Vision. The rest are off world for the time being.

“Anyone got any clue of what’s goin’ on?” Sam asks, stepping over legs with a beer in hand. He passes one to Rhodey and Bucky too – Steve forgoing a drink due to captainly duties, despite the fact that he can’t get drunk. Sam had been kind enough to get Peter a juice box, which is most definitely meant to be a jab at his age.

Joke’s on him, Peter thought. I fucking love apple juice.

There’s the sound of doors opening behind them and Peter peers over his shoulder to see who’s finally entered – and then he coughs, and splutters, and just barely misses choking on his juice as he watches _____ walk in behind Mr. Stark. Scott startles, and begins patting his back.

She’s wearing an orange sundress and sandals this time. She’s like the personification of a warm evening.

“_____!” Peter stutters, swatting at Scott’s hands (he didn’t want to look lame). “H-hi.”

“Hey,” she says, smiling. Her eyes zero in on his drink and her smile widens. “Nice juice box.”

“Well, uh, it’s apple juice, you know, so–”

“You two know each other,” Tony observes, gesturing between them with a singular finger. “How do you know each other, exactly?”

“Peter visits the meadow sometimes,” _____ says, shrugging. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t know,” Tony says, looking back and forth. “Which is arguably more worrying, because you’d think that one of my most trusted teammates would notify me if he thought a strange girl was loitering around the Compound.”

“I’m not strange–”

“She’s not strange–”

Tony coughs loudly. Peter hears Bucky chuckle and Sam mutter you know damn well why he didn’t say anything and Natasha sends him a smile that says you’re blushing, Peter – and yes, he realises. He is blushing. Wanda holds her hand over her heart and coos.

“Anyways,” Tony says pointedly. “This is _____. She’ll be joining us for training from now on. Her file’s available on the system if you wish to pull a Cap and do background checks on your teammates.”

Steve rolls his eyes but stands and makes his way over to shake _____’s hand. Bucky follows, and then Sam, and Scott gives her a hug, and Natasha smiles and pats her arm. Wanda smiles brightly and shakes her hand vigorously, and Vision sends her a nod and a small quirk of his lips. Pepper nods and grins, winking at Peter as she passes, and he feels his face heating up again.

“That was quicker than expected,” _____ says, watching the team trickle out of the room. “Thought I’d have to be interviewed for a few hours at least.”

“You’re not out of the water yet,” Tony says, clapping her shoulder. “Don’t let Cap corner you alone for the next few years and you’ll be good. I’m kidding. Anyways, looks like you can finally move into the main residential area.”

Tony looks over to where Peter is standing awkwardly. “Don’t just stand there, Parker. Show the lady to her room.”

“I don’t even know where–”

“Ask FRIDAY,” Tony says, shrugging as he turns in his heel. “You kids have fun.”

And then there were two. _____ is still staring after Tony, but she turns as he disappears around the corner and Peter is hit with the full force of her stare. “Well, you heard him.”

“Right! Right.” Peter coughs. “Well, this way, I guess.”

He takes off in the general direction of the residential area, peeking over his shoulder to make sure she’s following. He can’t believe that this is actually happening – they can train together, and hang out, and not only have to meet around the back of the Compound three times a month… His standards are fairly low, as one can tell.

“This is where most of us stay,” Peter says, fumbling with his fingers nervously. “Wanda and Vision and Banner, mostly. The rest have places in New York, and–”

“And you?”

“And me what?” Peter asks dumbly. _____ rolls her eyes and pushes his arm playfully.

“Where do you stay, Spiderboy?”

“Oh! Oh, um, Queens. With my Aunt May. I mean, Tony gave everyone their own room anyway, so sometimes I crash here. But May likes having me home.”

“And she knows what you do?”

“Yeah.” Peter gives a laugh, briefly recalling how May had stumbled upon him in his spider suit and spit every known curse under the sun. “It was hard for her to understand at first, but I guess she knows how stubborn I am.”

There’s a slight downturn to _____’s lips that he desperately wants to brush away, a sad disappointment in her eyes that is expertly hidden. He wonders if he’s said something wrong, but he suddenly remembers the first time he ever talked to her:

I accidentally destroyed my school gym during dodgeball. My parents think it’s best if I stay here until I have it under control.

Peter rests a hesitant hand on _____’s shoulder, his heart swelling when she relaxes underneath his touch.

“I–I know that I don’t know you very well,” he says sincerely, eyes flickering nervously to his feet, “But I know what you’re capable of is amazing. Your powers a–are beautiful, and your parents will see that too. They… They’ll come around.”

The look she gives him is so filled with emotion that he has to physically tear his eyes from hers. Brushing a cold hand to his hot cheek, he clears his throat and calls out.

“FRIDAY, could you tell us where _____’s room is?”

(When _____ gets settled into her room a few hours later Peter collapses against the wall outside and whispers into the air.

“Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“I think I’m in love.”)

x

_____’s room is everything you’d expect of an earth bender. Her bedspread is white with large leafy illustrations scattered to and fro; above her bed sits a shelf piled high with her school books and succulents. She’s got a desk with a laptop but it’s mostly covered by flowers and vines that have crawled down from their source on her walls. The windows are humongous and let in bunches of light, but Peter couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

Things had changed for the better in the two months since _____’s official arrival; for one, she had started training with the team (yes, Peter used it as an excuse to show off. Shut up.), and she was on the road to controlling her powers. Banner runs tests on her so that he can better understand them, but Peter thinks he’s just on the brink of calling up Dr. Strange.

In the meantime, though, _____ juggles her time between homeschooling and practicing in the meadow almost every day. She thinks it’s tedious, but she does it anyway after some encouragement. She’s working towards going back home, after all – and Peter won’t tell her, but he can sit for hours watching her grow flowers and trees with a flick of her wrist.

They had gotten closer. There was always something unspoken between them, an almost tangible tension in their jokes and eye contact. It’s going good. Life is going good; he was acing his tests and dropping by the Compound with every free second. There hadn’t been a second apocalypse, so that’s a plus.

And yet, there is something wrong.

Peter drops into the Compound, pulling his mask off of his face as he jogs through the doors. He says hi to the secretary and FRIDAY, and bounds into the elevator, phone in hand and school bag on his back. He gets to the residential floor like he does almost every day, spring in his step as he begins past the common area and towards the actual bedrooms.

“Peter!” It’s Mr. Stark, coming from the direction Peter is heading towards.

Peter slows slightly, confused. “Hey, Mr. Stark. What’re you doing here? Thought you’d be in the lab.”

“Usually, yeah.” The billionaire removes the unnecessary sunglasses from his face, and Peter takes note of the seriousness in his voice.

“W–what’s wrong?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing. Instinctively he glances over Mr. Stark’s shoulder and into the long hallway behind him.

“Listen, kid,” Tony says, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “I’m only telling you this because I know you care about her. _____ talked to her folks today, and… The kid’s parents, they… they don’t want her back, to put it simply.”

“Don’t want her back?” Peter echoes incredulously. “What do you mean they don’t want her back–?”

“She called them today to tell them about her progress,” Tony says. “She told them she’d be able to go home in a few weeks and they told her it’d be best if she stayed away. For good.”

Tony sounds irritated. Peter feels irritated. No, he feels furious. But there’s a large part of him that aches deeply for the girl down the hallway, and he makes a start towards her when Tony holds him back a second longer.

“She’s not in a good state, Peter,” Tony says quietly. “Anyways, I told her to call if she needed anything, but I doubt she will. Just… make sure she’s okay before you go, okay?”

(Peter most definitely is not going anywhere tonight.)

But he nods hesitantly anyway – not from an unwillingness to do so, but an apprehension to see the girl he… l-words in such a way. He begins carefully down the hall again, stuffing his phone away. Her door is just slightly ajar, and it squeaks when he pushes it open.

Oh, no.

Her entire room is… destroyed. Large, thick roots and stems have pushed up from the floors and down from the ceilings, disrupting the wooden planks and leaving cracked plaster on the floor. Her bookshelf has fallen and her desk is smashed to pieces. Her bed looks like it’s on the verge of bursting from the sheer strength of the wide vines that have wrapped around it. The only thing that remains as it was is the window.

Sniffling catches his attention, and Peter clenches his jaw as he drops his bag soundlessly and slowly makes his way around her bed. And there she is. Hair dishevelled and eyes bloodshot. Her cheeks are shiny with tear tracks and her stare is scarily empty.

“Oh, _____,” he whispers.

She doesn’t even look up as he drops to his knees and sits beside her, slumped against the side of her bed. It’s only when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his side that she reacts, silent sobs wracking her body.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats. “I’ve got you.”

“They don’t want me,” she cries. “I–I didn’t mean to wreck the gym, I’ve been trying so hard to get it under control and–”

She breaks off in a fit of sniffles and wet coughs.

“They’re right,” she says, wiping at her eyes furiously and standing up so quickly that it gives Peter whiplash. “I’m too dangerous. I–I thought I had it handled and–”

She gestures helplessly at her ruined room, but Peter is up before she continue.

“You’re not dangerous.”

“No?” She asks spitefully, sadness compressing into anger. “No?”

The vines on the floor tighten and the wood cracks dangerously.

“No,” Peter insists, stepping closer. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“No you don’t,” she says. “You hope I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t hurt me,” he repeats, finally close enough to touch her. He reaches a hesitant hand out to hers – she jolts away at first, but after a second try she doesn’t fight it. “I refuse to believe that the girl who talks to her plants and made a flower grow on my arm is the cold blooded monster she’s making herself out to be.”

He grasps her hand fully – and, after a pregnant, suspenseful pause, her shoulders sag and the fight seeps out of her. She gratefully accepts Peter’s arms as they wind around her, and when she speaks it’s with such a small voice that he has to close his eyes for a moment.

“Peter,” she says, “What’s wrong with me?”

He’s never been so quick or fierce to defend someone before. “Don’t you ever say that, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you. They couldn’t see that, but we can. Mr. Stark and Wanda and Banner and everyone else. Your real family.”

______ lifts her head from his shoulder and stares at him. They’re close – too close, Peter thinks, gulping slightly. But he doesn’t fight when she leans forward and presses her lips to his gently, one, twice, three times.

She leans her head back on his shoulder, and no more is said.

Here, in her demolished room with the sun shining brightly through the windows and plants blooming in every nook and cranny, with the taste of her lip balm on his lips and the weight of her head on his shoulder, nothing has ever felt so right.


End file.
